e instead of Jane McClane. Oh! oh! oh! and then Polly burst
out,--

"It ain't mine, it ain't mine, it's Jane's. The lady made a mistake."

"What lady?"

"The lady in the shop."

"What shop?"

And then Polly had to tell the whole story.

"And that's where you were after breakfast, you little monkey, breaking
a bank, and running away with it, to buy Jane McClane a valentine. Well,
if this isn't the funniest thing I ever heard of. Jane! Jane! come up
here and show Polly _your_ valentine!" And up came Jane, her face
beaming with smiles, holding in one hand a big square envelope, and in
the other an open sheet all covered with lilies and roses and cherubs'
faces; that very "bewt'f'lest valentine" that had been chosen for her.

Polly, staring at it in amazement, cried out, "Why, she's got it! she's
got it!" And then, pulling open the envelope addressed to Polly Price,
she stared in amazement again, and cried out, "Why, this is just like
_that_ one,--the one I bought for you, Janey!"

And then it was Jane's turn to cry out in amazement, to say, "_You_
bought it; how did _you_ buy it, Polly?"

"She broke a bank and ran away with the money," laughed Martha.

"I didn't, either. The chimney's made to come out, and the bank's my
bank," retorted Polly, indignantly.

"You took _your_ money,--your money you've been saving to buy the
paint-box with, to buy this valentine for me?" asked Jane.

"Yes," faltered Polly.

"And gave up the paint-box! Oh, Polly, Polly, you're a dear;" and Jane
swooped down upon Polly with a tremendous hug. Polly returned the
embrace with ardor, and then, "Who d' you s'pose," she asked, "who d'
you s'pose sent _me_ one jus' exactly like yours? It must be somebody
that likes me jus' as I like you, Janey."

"Mrs. Banks wants you to go down to the parlor, Polly. There's some one
to see you," a voice interrupted here.

"To see _me_?" cried Polly.

"Yes,--don't stop to bother,--run along." And Polly ran along as fast
as her feet could carry her, wondering as she went who had come to see
_her_, who had never in her life had a visitor before. At the foot of
the stairs she stopped in shy alarm. Then she tiptoed across the hallway
to the parlor threshold, and there she saw the lady who had been so kind
to her in the shop.

"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed Polly, joyfully.

The lady laughed, and held out her hand. "Yes, it's I," she said. "Did
Jane get the valentine all right, and did she like it?"

Pol